


Rock the Theatre

by Perfect_Stranger



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Bad Jokes, Contemporary Setting, Jamie is a punkrockmetalhead, M/M, Mako is a bass, Opera AU, cheerfully pretentious prose, happy fic, sparks are about to fly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-06-14 17:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perfect_Stranger/pseuds/Perfect_Stranger
Summary: Jamie's father, an opera critic, drags him to a performance of The Magic Flute. While Jamie's got an extremely limited taste for that sort of music, it turns out he could listen to this bloke playing Sarastro much longer than just one evening at the opera...





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> The credit for this prompt goes to Lithy the cat! Thanks for the great inspiration!

Sydney Opera House in the windy harbour, sails lit by the setting sun. In walked James Fawkes, opera critic and an aficionado of the fine arts. Distinguished. Renowned. Imposingly tall.

Next to him stood his son, Jamie. Jamison. Son of James, it's right there in his name. He took after his mother, though: casual. Coarse. Even taller, though not much bothering with things like posture and grace.

The father and the son got along all right, they just had little in common. Music was one of those things, although of course it just had to be different genres: opera and classical for James, punk and metal for Jamie. They made little compromises here and there. Today Jamie tried not to squirm in his fancy shirt (the one without holes in it), though it was at least his usual screaming orange. In return, later next week James would come to see Jamie's band play. Jamie had told him not to dress to the punk club like a posh wanker. James had laughed and told him not to throw firecrackers in the orchestra pit.

"Do you want the libretto?" James asked. He didn't need one for himself, of course. Knew it all by heart.

"Sure."

Of course Jamie knew _of_ the Magic Flute, who didn't? _Der Hölle Rache_ was metal as, everybody knew that. Jamie just didn't know the whole thing very well. He looked over the names of the singers for this production and found some of them vaguely familiar. The Queen of the Night was played by an Irish soprano he'd actually heard before. Strong voice. He looked forward to hearing her on stage as well. He slid his finger down the cast list, and he saw another promising one.

_Sarastro: Mako Rutledge_

He had seen that name on his dad's classical records over the years. He'd never really listened to any of them after trying some of the operas once and nearly succumbing to the ensuing boredom. ("And I thought _I_ had a flair for the dramatic," his dad had said.) Still, he could appreciate an interesting voice, and apparently this bloke was a bass. Yeah, why not look forward to that as well, even if the song was not to his taste? It would be a nice change from all the star tenors all the time, anyway.

"You haven't heard him before, have you?" James asked, seeing his son linger on the name.

"Nah..."

"Well, I think even you'll be impressed. Ex _qui_ site voice."

Jamie grinned fondly. "Sure, Dad." He looked up from the libretto, eyeing the crowd. "You think we should get going? I hear there are heaps of steps to the loges. Too bad we haven't got time to see the Badu Gili."

"Yes, that'll have to wait for some other time," James agreed. "And yes to the steps, too. Hope you can handle a bit of climbing."

"Hah, you doubt me despite my magnificent physique!" Jamie straightened his back, for once in his life, and tried to look the epitome of healthy living.

His dad only laughed as he began to guide them to the stairs. "Get down, tall poppy."

"Yeah, well, you got us tickets to this opera, I've got tickets on meself!"

"I know! How un-Australian of you."

"Hey, save your breath for the stairs!"

Jamie was honestly a bit surprised to find himself not dead after the climb. Maybe he really was in a better shape than he'd thought? Bulging vein and muscle wasn't everything, after all, and he did carry a lot of moderately heavy stuff when working or preparing for a gig. He couldn't help gloating just a little bit over his victory as he stopped to wait for James to show him to their loge. James forgave him as always and guided him to two seats with their backs to the wall. He'd specifically chosen places where Jamie could read the surtitles if he wanted, and James could take his notes without bothering people sitting next to or behind them.

After some more leafing through the libretto, however, Jamie wasn't sure he wanted to know what the lyrics said. Not only did they not seem to think much of women or minorities back then, the depiction of the union between Man and Woman as the noblest thing one could aspire to still managed to sting from beyond the centuries. And as if that wasn't quite enough...

"Dad, is this Papageno bloke some sort of serial killer? He's talking about trapping girls in his house and trading them for sugar."

"...ah. Yes. The lyrics have been discussed a lot in recent..."

"Hey, maybe this an 18th century psychological thriller? Or maybe not. It was such a different time, they probably thought he was an eligible bachelor or something back then."

James laughed. "You know, Jamie... I think I could get you a guest column if you want to do your own review."

"You're on," Jamie cackled back.

They couldn't discuss the utter farce _that_ would be much longer, though; they'd arrived fairly late, and the show was about to begin. It was a Wednesday performance. The circle and stalls were full, but it didn't look like their loge was going to fill up. That was nice. Jamie wouldn't have to focus too much on being quiet as long as he wasn't shrieking or anything. While he couldn't see any reason to shriek at the opera, it was still nice to know he didn't have to watch his volume quite so much.

The lights dimmed. It began.

Jamie got a nice giggle out of the beginning with the three ladies instantly falling in love with Tamino for being pretty. It really was a different time, wasn't it? These days it took at _least_ six beers and, in Jamie's case, a bombtastic personality. ("No, not bombastic, I know what that means!" Jamie had had to tell his dad at least twice, though he wasn't strictly against some amount of bombast either as long as the bloke could take some fond banter for it.) And oh look, there went Tamino falling in love at first sight of a pretty face as well! Love came so easily to people in those days if their entertainment had even a seed of truth in it. Jamie actually lost the next few lines to an unexpected melancholy as he considered his own bad luck.

It wasn't just his mood that briefly took him out of the performance. He'd just never really liked Mozart very much. Some good songs, but mostly they just lacked something in his opinion. He figured it'd be more exciting if he understood something about opera and what made a performance good, but the beginning mostly sounded like every other opera to him. Decent and well sung, but samey. Even explosions got boring without any variation, and Der Hölle Rache would be the much-needed kaboom after too many booms. He needed that blast if he was going to sit here for two and a half hours. The whole thing was like one of those things where a parent brought their child to listen to the old greats of their own youth, and the kid knew only the couple of greatest hits that played on the radio sometimes. Or maybe the one song that was truly metal among all the commercial boredom. He didn't see why old music had to be so revered just because it was old.

Then Jamie felt a stab of guilt for thinking this way about something that was so dear to his dad and made an effort again.

Luckily the Queen of the Night showed up once before her greatest hit. Jamie liked this soprano. She was taller than everybody else so far, very slim but something about her made her look very strong, a proper diva for the role. He couldn't wait to get to her next aria. He'd just have to make it through the entire first act. With a guilty sigh - he really didn't want to hurt his dad's feelings - Jamie sank back in his seat and braced for the wait. The long, long wait.

"Here comes Sarastro," James whispered minutes before it happened, but the excitement on the stage quickly became contagious. Jamie glanced at the surtitles and grinned; they all sounded like they either feared this Sarastro or lusted after him.

And then. Then. Oh. Oh. _Oh_. Jamie's eyebrows almost hit his hairline. His jaw almost hit his lap. He was surprised they didn't just continue their journey all the way to the ceiling and the floor. There was the sound of thunder, and he wasn't sure if it had come from the stage or his rapidly overloading brain. Mako Rutledge was the biggest man he had ever witnessed in person. Even taller than the Queen of the Night, even taller than Jamie himself. Huge, glorious belly, and heaps of muscle too, apparent from the powerful way he carried himself. He didn't look very old, but he had beautiful white hair. He absolutely dwarfed everybody else. He absolutely dominated the stage.

Jamie's mouth felt dry. He thought it was a strange reaction; he felt like he should've been drooling, and then again it was really a surprise he could think at all. The heroine, whatever her name was again, knelt before Sarastro, pleading. Sarastro opened his mouth, singing.

The theatre vibrated. This time Jamie's brain did overload.

"Majestic as always," James muttered, taking notes and probably analysing Sarastro's... Sarastro's timbres, or something.

An incomprehensible blabber of agreement came out of Jamie's mouth. Mako Rutledge's voice was like an unstoppable soundwave, travelling through him and leaving him trembling in its wake. It was like standing right next to the stage and feeling the guitar shred into his innards. More metal than metal. Sonic infatuation.

Funny, that... looked like Jamie could relate to the hero of the opera after all.

 


	2. Act 2

While thunderous applause from the audience told Jamie that the first act had ended, it took him a moment to accept it. It was only when James nudged him, asking if he had fallen asleep, that he could bring himself to tear his eyes off the curtain and stand up on shaking legs. Hooley dooley, they were actually shaking. It was amazing, really. Jamie felt like an absolute storm of hormones he thought he'd left behind in his teens; a little sweaty, a lot infatuated, his blood coursing through his whole body.

It was only when he was limping (limping!) out of the loge that he thought to be grateful that at least one part of his excitable teen years had stayed in the past. Ten years earlier there was no way he would've been able to just stand up after something like that with people watching. Small mercies.

They'd be going to the restaurant by the water after the show, but the interval they went to spend in the bar closest to Joan Sutherland Theatre - once Jamie made it down the stairs. James had ordered them some wine and snacks and was currently waxing lyrical about an actual performance by Joan Sutherland he'd seen in this very opera house, while bemoaning the fact that he was too young to have seen her in her prime. Jamie was too busy thinking about the performance he'd seen just now and could barely pay attention to his father or the stunning view of the harbour. He actually trembled a little with excitement as he leafed through the libretto to see where Sarastro's next scene would be. Right in the beginning of Act 2? He wasn't sure his heart, not to mention the rest of his body, could take it so soon after the last one. The image of Saras... no, not the character but the glorious Mako Rutledge himself, towering over everybody else on stage refused to leave Jamie's eyes. That voice still rang and reverberated in his ears. Everywhere in his body. It was the feeling he always got after a really good gig, except this was just one song, one man.

Jamie's fingers traced Sarastro's next lines, imagining how he might sing them. He then switched to his phone to google what he could find on Mako Rutledge, which wasn't a huge amount since the man sang bass in the opera instead of playing one in a rock band. How could Jamie be this stupidly obsessed with a man he'd only seen once? He supposed it really was kind of like that character, Tama... Tamo... he glanced at the cast list... _Tamino_ instantly falling for that... he sighed, looking at the cast list again... Pamina character at first sight, except Jamie thought it was a crying shame Tamino couldn't look at Sarastro and fall a little bit for him as well. Oh well, this was written at least, uh, a hundred years ago. Couldn't really do that sort of thing back then.

"Sorry they didn't have VB, but the Shiraz is quite good," James intruded on his son's fantasies, snacking on the cheese assortment.

"Yeah, yeah it is," Jamie said quickly, ignoring the VB remark and taking what he hoped was a dainty sip of the wine. He even remembered to hold out his little finger. That got a laugh out of his father, so he must've been doing it right.

"Am I right... are you actually _enjoying_ an opera? Maybe I should've taken you to see this one when you were little."

"I like one of the singers," Jamie admitted. And because James was going to get excited and ask: "Sarastro. Rutledge."

"Oh! Well, I'm glad you appreciate his voice, I've followed his career for years. What did you think of the low notes?"

"So deep only the fucking whales should be able to hear them. Bloody hell. What was that word you used, Dad? Explosive? Wait..." Jamie prepared to do his best imitation of his father's posher accent. "Ex _qui_ site."

"Quite so," said James with an even posher accent that was veering pretty close to Received Pronunciation. That got a laugh out of both of them.

Jamie's fingers still traced the words on the libretto. "Impressive bloke."

"Yes, he..." His dad finally noticed and laughed again. "Oh, I see now how it is. Well, I suppose you did at least like _some_ of the music."

"What?"

"What 'what'? Don't make me tell you a dad joke, boy. I've seen that look at least a thousand times when you were growing up."

Turned out being found out still made Jamie make that same maniacal grin like he actually was ten years younger and his parents had asked him why his metal band posters seemed to put him in a trance at least five times a day. "Yeah, well, what can I say, he's pretty scorching!"

James nodded, tasting another cheese. "One of your types, is he?"

"I see you've noticed I only started watching MasterChef because of Matt Preston," Jamie confirmed. He thought of something and finished his Shiraz with far less sophistication this time. "'s silly, though. Probably married and everything."

"Hm." James seemed to hesitate between hoping Jamie would go for men a _bit_ closer to his own age and indulging his son because, well, he'd never had a chance with those other older men, either. "...used to be."

"Well there you go." Could be bi too, sure, but somehow the odds of that being true never seemed to be on Jamie's side for some reason. _Or maybe it's my winning personality_ , Jamie thought with a touch of the gloom that usually stayed behind the fire.

"To a man." James shrugged at the surprised look he got. "It's been legal in New Zealand a bit longer than here." He frowned a little, thinking. "Or was it civil unions first?"

"Huh." Yeah, that was true, but Jamie hadn't _really_ expected...

Ah well. He had to learn to stop getting so excited so easily. It was nice to know, but it wasn't as if he really had any chance with someone like that. Best to just enjoy the opera, not act like a character in it.

And still...

"It... it just sunk in."

"What did?"

"It's 2018. In Australia." As much as Jamie tried to rein in the shaking that was returning to his hands, he couldn't. "Dad, I could be married too one day."

Both of them paused. The thought was both happy and scary as hell and not really something to delve into during the interval of an opera. James fondly tousled his son's hair, actually improving it, and then it was already time to return to the loge.

By the time Jamie's eyes were greeted by the sacred palm grove and the priests he had already read about, he had managed to calm himself down enough to enjoy some of the nuances of Rutledge's performance. To his delight, there was a speaking part before the aria. He didn't understand as much German as he would have liked (a lot of good music came from there), so he just focused on enjoying the incredible voice speaking it. Many people had very different speaking voices compared to their singing voices, but Mako Rutledge's sounded just as deep and powerful spoken as sung. There he stood before the priests, completely impossible to ignore even if the opera hadn't made him such a revered figure. "Larger than life" was such a bloody cliche, but what other way was there to describe such a commanding presence?

Rutledge sung again, and this time Jamie felt soothed by the gentle melody even as that voice still shook him in the best of ways. Like riding the waves on a sea that held a hint of a brewing storm. How much was it possible to learn of the actor himself from the way he played his character? With Mako Rutledge, it seemed some strength of his own shone through at all times - which probably suited this Sarastro guy just fine, but Jamie kind of felt like seeing what Rutledge would do with a plainer character. Or did they even write such roles for basses? It seemed unlikely. People generally thought that deeper was manlier, after all.

The parts of the opera that didn't have Sarastro in them went by in a lull, broken only by the flash of lightning that was the Queen of the Night's furious aria. Jamie really liked this soprano. She had a perfect cold rage in her performance that proved a deep voice wasn't necessary for a commanding presence... and somehow, despite all the parts he didn't like, Jamie found himself being swept into the rest of the performance, just a little, just enough to stay interested until the parts with his unexpected new favourite.

Sarastro had this habit of holding other characters' hands in a very warm and fatherly way. Before it ended, too suddenly since Jamie had been too deep in his fantasies to pay attention, he thought it would probably feel really nice to hold Mako Rutledge's hand.

"Asleep or daydreaming?" James shouted over the thunder.

Jamie blinked a few times. "...what, is it over?"

James laughed. "Why do you think we're clapping?"

"'Cause it was ace?" Taking a peek at the audience, Jamie saw that it did look like the sort of applause that came at the end of a show, just before the "encore" screams. Wait, did they do that after opera or was it just for concerts? Jamie wondered if he could get a "we want more" chant going instead.

"It was. Want to go to the restaurant already?"

Jamie stared at the curtain. "Don't they come back for a bow? Let's see that."

Yep, there they came, one after another; Jamie gave polite applause to the rest of the cast, enthusiastic to the Queen of the Night and absolutely manic to Mako Rutledge. Still at the centre of the stage, still the best. If he hadn't been there with his father, Jamie might've even whistled for him.

Once it looked like the performers had left the stage for good - the fact that the rest of the audience was starting to leave seemed like a pretty clear hint - Jamie pushed himself out of his seat with a sigh. "Mako has left the building. What a guy. Right, _now_ for the restaurant, I'm thirsty as hell."

James gave a kind nod. "Yes, I noticed."

"Wha... Dad!" Jamie almost did shriek at the opera for that; luckily it came out as one of his patented hyena cackles instead. He slapped a hand over his mouth, but he wouldn't be surprised if the sound had been heard all the way in the backstage. Oh well, the damage was done. "I'm dobbing you in!"

"Go ahead, you know your mum will just laugh..."

 

* * *

 

Jamie hadn't had a lot of time after work, and he'd chosen to spend that time tinkering instead of making a quick snack for himself before heading for the harbour. The cheeses and other fancy stuff had tided him over pretty well during the performance, but by now he was really starting to feel the long day at work in his stomach. For some reason, the sea always made him hungrier. He quickly chose a burger that luckily didn't take too long to come.

His dad gave someone a quick nod, probably one of his opera buddies or something; Jamie was too busy eating to glance up for a closer look if it wasn't anyone who was going to sit at their table. The person seemed to turn briefly, probably to nod back, and continued towards a group that had been slowly approaching but didn't take the table behind them. Jamie quickly tuned out their greetings and focused on his food.

"I gotta admit this was fun, Dad," Jamie said once he'd practically inhaled half of his mushroom burger. "Bloody hell, that bass. Never heard anything like that before." He speared a few chips, gesturing with his fork. "You should put that in your review! 'Local punk likes opera. Rutledge is to blame.' How's that?"

James grinned. "Maybe you really should write a guest column."

"I don't know, can you swear in opera reviews? Because I..." There was a flash of grey and white in Jamie's peripheral vision, and he instinctively moved to protect his chips, hoping for a distracting smoke bomb to throw on the deck. "Shit! Look, Dad, the Phantom of the Opera came out for the night!"

"Fascinating bird, silver gull. So well adapted to living with humans."

"Yeah, well, I hope they don't shit where they eat." Jamie looked up from his plate and saw the bird fly off into the artificially lit night, probably after a tasty bug or something. "Look at him go. _Skree! Skree! Bombs away, boys!_ "

A chuckle, so deep it practically vibrated in Jamie's bones, came from the group that had stopped to stand behind them. That same bass that had lovingly slithered into Jamie's ears and rattled his brain just moments ago. Once again Jamie's limbs felt weak, and he almost dropped his burger. Someone else in the group took this opportunity to greet the older Fawkes. 'Probably one of his opera buddies' indeed. Jamie gave his dad a brief glare, but James was looking away quite intently, trying not to laugh into his wine.

 


	3. Act 2.5

"Mrs O'Deorain, I'm very pleased to see you again," James articulated in his best cosmopolitan tone, honed by years of getting to faff about in all sorts of classy opera circles abroad.

There was a short burst of laughter from the woman standing behind Jamie. "No need to be so formal, James. It's not my first time in Australia."

Well, they probably didn't know each other very well if she thought the older Fawkes put on an accent and his best behaviour just to please guests. Or maybe it was their way of joking, who knew. In any case, Jamie very much did have to put on an act for that sort of thing. It occurred to him that it might be the time to do so as he noticed his burger still oozing from between his tightly gripping fingers; he put it down on his plate (in his mind already preparing to lose it to the seagulls), wiped his hands clean and prepared to face the music.

As he stood up, already feeling sort of awkward about trying to be so polite and restrained, he came face to face with the Queen of the Night herself. Actually face to face, as unlike most people, she was fairly close to Jamie's height. She looked very different without her costume - stylish short haircut, very nice suit, a surprisingly deep speaking voice considering her singing range. To be perfectly honest, she was actually pinging Jamie's gaydar pretty hard. He grinned out of pure joy of possibly meeting one of his people out in the wild.

"G'day, Highness," he articulated with impeccable deportment.

"That's more like it," replied the Queen, the corners of her mouth pulling back in a wry grin.

James coughed to supposedly bring attention to himself, but it really sounded like he was trying to hide his laughter. "My son, Jamison," he managed.

The Queen nodded. "'Son of Jamie'?"

"Yes, named him after myself. Very narcissistic of me, I know."

The small group laughed in way that sounded quite genuine. The sound made Jamie feel far more at ease; he let his posture relax a bit, and his grin expanded into its natural unnerving dimensions. "Yeah, I'm the Jamie now. He had to go back to James." This too seemed well received by the group, so Jamie felt encouraged to finally face the source of that electrifyingly deep laughter. He had been able to see the man all along, of course, an absolutely unignorable presence in the corner of his eye; now he finally looked, trembling with excitement.

And what was he going to say to a man who had wrecked him with his voice alone? Jamie had always been good at never shutting up, but right now he felt like just regressing to mindless kookaburra noises. Mako Rutledge was almost lethal to look at, filling Jamie's entire line of sight with pure impressiveness. Yep, still absolutely beautiful. That lovely white hair tied in a surprisingly cute ponytail on top of his head. Those dark eyes looking right into Jamie's right here, without the safety of the loge's darkness and distance from the stage. Looking down at him, one of the few people who could. Seeing him in person like this, rather than as a character down below the loge, made something in Jamie's mind try its best to shut down as it just couldn't handle it. But he should probably try for courteous just to be on the safe side, right? Mako looked friendly enough, but Jamie didn't actually know what he was like.

And then Mako surprised him by offering his (absolutely massive, holy boody hell) hand first. "So I heard you liked the show," Mako said in a reassuringly casual tone with a small grin on his ridiculously handsome face that did unholy things to Jamie's brain. His voice swept and crashed over Jamie, caressing his eardrums with the gentleness and terrifying awe-inspiringness of a sonic tsunami. He didn't really sound like a Kiwi, Jamie managed to notice - yet another great accent lost to an international career - but no matter, no worries. After having had his ears seduced by Mako Rutledge's German, hearing him speak their shared language electrified some completely different part of Jamie's mind. Funnily enough, it inspired him to jump to yet another language, one he had also heard quite a bit of, growing up with the father he had.

" _Enchanté_ ," he drawled with an Australian accent as thick as the Outback was vast. Synapses firing, he took the offered hand and, with a ridiculous little theatre bow, planted a kiss right on its back. As he raised his head with some reluctance, he looked back into a pair of eyes that, luckily, seemed to hold as much amusement as surprise. Jamie grinned like a complete lunatic. "And you heard right. That was the _bomb_ , mate."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely short chapter here, sorry for that. I thought it'd be good to post *something* since it's been so long since the last chapter. More coming up!


End file.
